Annie Christie's That Long Hot SummerEpisode Six

Genre:DramaSwearwords: None.Description:After a wonderful night spent with Daniel, Shelley leaves for work and promises to return. But she doesn’t. So Daniel sets off to find her…

​‘And what happened next?’

It was Monday morning and Mike was plugging Daniel for information about his weekend date with Shelley.

‘I’m not telling you – it’s private.’

‘Ah… okay… you dark horse.’ Mike laughed and went back to his bench.

Daniel was still trying to process what had happened next. She’d said she loved him. They’d spent the night together and it had been, well, if not perfect, then at least wonderful. And in the morning she’d said she had to go to work. She promised, or at least she said, she would come back later. And he waited.

For Daniel, later had meant about four o’clock, or maybe six o’clock. He’d pottered around the house for the day – even gone out shopping to buy some food so that he could cook for them both that night. For the first time in a long time he’d not had a feeling of unease. He felt, now, what was it? Yes. Happy. He felt really happy. He’d let his guard down and it had been spectacularly repaid.

But by five o’clock he was starting to get anxious. He put the energy into creating his dish – bog standard spaghetti Bolognese. With apple crumble to finish. She’d said she liked apple crumble. He remembered that. She said she was coming back. By seven o’clock when there was no sign of her he was starting to worry properly. By nine o’clock he was off the radar anxious.

It was the uncertainty. Where was she? What had happened to her? Should he go to look for her? He had no idea where she worked now. It hadn’t come up in conversation. Well – a community garden project, she’d said. No more than that. No indication of name or address. Should he start ringing round hospitals to see if she’d had an accident? He realised he didn’t even know her second name. What did he know, when it came down to it?

By ten o’clock it was beginning to dawn on him that something bad had happened. But not the sort of something bad he’d been imagining. The other something bad. She’d stood him up. Changed her mind. She wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t interested. She had been lying when she said she loved him.

He looked at the greasy spaghetti and burned apple crumble and he cried. He actually cried. It was something he hadn’t done since that day, about Christopher. He hadn’t even cried when he was told about his parents and the car crash. He had been numb and he’d remained numb ever since. He’d come to terms with the fact that he loved people and they died. It wasn’t that they let him down, he felt that he’d let them all down in some, unfathomable way.

He went back in his mind over the wonderful night spent with Shelley. What had he done to scare her off? Was it the turf? No, she’d loved that. The sex? No, it had been great. Of course he didn’t have a lot to compare it with, having only had a couple of sexual encounters in his late teens, while at University, and none at all since he’d come to Salford. But why would she run? Why would she just not come back? She’d seemed so genuine, so honest – the uncertainty was killing him.

He went to bed at eleven o’clock but stayed awake, tossing and turning all night trying to make sense of it. He went over and over the events of the previous 48 hours in as forensic detail as he could. And it made no sense. He decided that come Sunday morning he would go to find her. He would search her out if it meant he had to check out every community garden and garden centre in the Greater Manchester Area.

He began googling addresses at five in the morning. He was up and dressed at six thirty ready to go out. He realised it was Sunday morning and nowhere would be open till at least nine o’clock. He left the house at eight thirty, determined to start his quest.

He had a plan, or something of one. There were fifteen garden centres listed in Salford alone. And seven community garden projects. He got the bus to the first place. Arrived there just after nine and it was totally shut. He hung around till ten. No sign of life. And it did say it was only open Monday to Friday. He moved on. By midday he was becoming hopeless. He’d covered five garden centres – she wasn’t at any of them – and three community projects – all of which were closed at the weekend.

He kept at it. ‘It’ll be the last place I look,’ he said, realising the irony of the statement. Of course it would be the last place – you always find something the last place you look because then you stop looking.

At two o’clock he began to wonder if she’d set him this quest deliberately – to test him. It was better than simply thinking she’d thought better of it and had simply decided never to see him again. While his rational mind kept telling him to give up, to accept she didn’t want anything to do with him, something deeper told him to keep looking.

Just after three, as he was on his way to yet another garden centre, he came across a community garden project which had not been on his list. It was a small place, an oasis of calm backing off quite a busy road. And it was open. The first community garden project he’d come across which was open on a Sunday. He went in.

By now he’d become quite used to asking the question.

‘Do you have a girl called Shelley working here?’ he asked the first person he came across.

The guy, who looked like he was from Eastern Europe, shook his head. He didn’t look like he understood. Maybe he didn’t speak English.

Daniel slowed it down. Described Shelley as best he could. The guy looked blank. And then he stopped looking blank and looked scared.

‘No. No girl.’ He said. ‘Why you come looking? We’re all legal here.’

‘Yes, no, I’m sure you are,’ Daniel replied.

‘So why questions on girl?’ the man asked.

Daniel hadn’t thought what his answer to this would be. He assumed that if he searched enough places he’d find Shelley. This guy was giving out mixed signals. He didn’t believe him that he didn’t know her. In fact he was convinced she worked here.

‘Is there someone else I can talk to?’ Daniel asked. He noticed a portacabin. ‘In the office perhaps?’

The guy shrugged.

‘What you like,’ he said.

Daniel headed off for the portacabin, and when he looked back he saw the man had packed up his tools and was headed for the exit. That was two people he’d scared off this weekend.

The portacabin was empty. Daniel looked around. On the wall was a chart with a rota. He saw the name Shelley on it for Saturday – but not, significantly - for Sunday. So she had been there yesterday, but not today.

A woman entered the portacabin. She was English at least, Daniel thought.

‘What do you want?’ she said. Daniel thought the people here needed a few lessons in politeness – a ‘Can I help you’ might have been more appropriate. But he let it slide.

‘I’m looking for Shelley,’ he said.

‘Shelley?’ she replied. ‘What do you want with Shelley?’

It was odd. The garden project had seemed such a calm oasis of a place, but Daniel was now picking up a very bad vibe. Hostile almost.

‘I’m Daniel,’ he said. Not knowing what else to say.

‘Daniel?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he said.

The woman crumpled.

‘Oh, thank God,’ she said. ‘I thought you were the police again.’

‘The police?’ Daniel

‘They came in yesterday, turned the place upside down and…’

And she told Daniel the whole story.

It seemed that the police had a tip-off that there were illegal migrants working at the community garden project and they’d come looking. They took the boss, Mr Zhi, away with them and Shelley had kicked up a fight. She’d got herself arrested. The woman didn’t know much more than that. Apart from the police that were left had both scared off most of the other ‘service users’, many of whom were refugees and quite legitimate immigrants from Eastern Europe, and then they’d made a mess of the office, going through all the records with a fine tooth comb but a rather heavy hand.

‘It’s taken me all day to get it straight again,’ she said.

‘Shelley got arrested?’ was all Daniel could think of to say.

‘Yes. With Zhi. Well, he wasn’t arrested per se… but they took them off together in the police car.’

‘Where to?’ Daniel asked.

‘I don’t know. The police station,’ was the best she could do.

‘Which one?’

She shrugged. ‘No idea,’ she replied. ‘Are you going to go and look for her?’

‘Tell her I came looking for her,’ Daniel said. There was no point hanging around here. He left.

He knew he should now start checking out police stations. But he had no idea where to begin. There was no clue as to whether she’d been taken down the local nick, or to some high security place where they held migrants – that was what they did, wasn’t it? – put them in detention centres. He just didn’t know what to do, where to begin. He was way out of his depth.

He thought of going home to re-group. Think what to do. Get another plan. But something told him to go to the Lowry Centre. He looked at his watch. It was four fifteen. He reckoned it would take him five minutes on a bus, and then another five on a tram. But he couldn’t afford to wait for a bus. So he started to run.

He made it to the Lowry Centre at four forty five, give or take a few minutes. The concourse was more or less empty. He went inside. He was beginning to feel completely foolish. He thought about having a coffee but it looked like they were starting to shut up. So he went outside again.

And then he saw her.

She was standing on the steps, looking away from the building. He came up behind her. He didn’t want to frighten her, so he spoke from some distance away.

‘Shelley,’ he said.

She turned round.

‘Daniel, you came,’ she said.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

And she broke down in tears.

‘I thought I’d lost you,’ he said. ‘I thought you didn’t want to see me any more.’

He kissed her.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘This place is closing. I’m going to take you home.’

~~~

Back at his house, Daniel heated up the Bolognese, made fresh spaghetti and scraped the burned crumble off the apples. They ate.

Shelley told him all about the events of Saturday and Sunday. The police had indeed come to ‘question’ her boss Zhi. They suspected there were illegal migrants at the project.

‘The people at the garden project,’ she continued, ‘are united by one thing. They’ve had deep trauma in their lives and they come there to escape from it. To rebuild their lives. That’s all you need to know about them.’

Daniel realised it wasn’t the moment to probe further. What did he know about migrants or refugees anyway?

He was more concerned about what had happened to Shelley than the migrants – even her boss.

‘But what did they do to you?’ he said. ‘The woman at the project said they arrested you.’

‘It was a bit of a scuffle,’ she said. ‘They cautioned me. But I went willingly. I wanted to know what would happen to Mr Zhi. I wasn’t going to leave him. I wouldn’t do that.’

‘You might not believe me,’ she said, ‘I mean, I know I promised to come back and I didn’t, but I think you can see the circumstances were exceptional. And we did find each other again.’

There was a pause.

‘I hoped you’d come looking for me.’

‘You weren’t easy to find,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know where you worked, or even your second name. I was about to start on the police-stations but…’

‘But you went with your heart and you found me,’ she completed his unfinished sentence.

‘I suppose so,’ he said.

‘And now?’ she asked.

‘Now what?’ he said.

‘What do we do now?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I think I should run you a bath – you must feel skanky after a night in the cells.’

‘I didn’t spend the night in the cells,’ she said. ‘I sat outside waiting for them to finish with Mr Zhi and then I took him home. Only he didn’t want to go home. So I took him back to mine. Then I came to find you. I came here, but you weren’t in and so I went to the Lowry… hoping…’

‘So are you going back to Mr Zhi?’ he asked. It came out rougher than he intended.

‘Do you want me to?’ she asked.

‘I want you to stay here, with me,’ he said. And it was only after the words had come out of his mouth that he realised how much he meant it. ‘But if you have to go back to him…’

‘I’ll call him,’ she said.

‘You didn’t call me,’ he replied.

‘I didn’t have your number, you plum,’ she said. ‘We never exchanged numbers, did we? We missed out on that first date essential and sort of skipped straight on…’

He realised how much easier the last twenty four hours would have been if they had simply swapped numbers.

‘Rooky error,’ she smiled.

‘I’ll phone Mr Zhi. He’ll be happy enough to stay at mine, and to be honest, it’s not big enough for two. I should think he can do with the peace and quiet anyway. I’ll tell him I’ll see him tomorrow at work.’

‘Are you sure?’ Daniel asked.

She kissed him.

‘Sure I’m sure,’ she said.

‘It’s just that I don’t want to let you go again,’ he said. And instead of sounding needy it sounded kind of romantic.

‘So go run that bath,’ she said. ‘While I ring Mr Zhi.’

‘One thing first,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Give me your mobile number.’

She laughed.

‘I’m right here,’ she said.

‘I lost you once,’ he said, ‘I’m not going to lose you again. Who knows what might happen while I’m upstairs running the bath!’

~~~

Next morning Daniel sat at his lab bench looking at his phone. Her number. On his phone. It was ten thirty. Was it too early to call her? He’d text. Just to check she’d got in okay and that Mr Zhi was doing fine. He thought, yes, sir, that was quite a weekend. Not something he was going to tell Mike. No way. And he began to text…

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About the Author

​Annie Christie is a pretty ordinary person, except that she was born Annie Christie and then married a man called Christie and so is still called Christie despite having taken on her husband’s name. She sometimes wonders if she should have called herself Christie-Christie: but who would believe that?

Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.

That Long Hot Summer is Annie's third McSerial written for McStorytellers.